Page 89 of Psychological War

“He’s drowning, Salem, you really need to wake up, please. He’s losing himself, and I’m afraid you’re the only one who can save him.” Something warm touched my forehead, as though he was giving me a kiss. “Your family needs you.”

***

I’m sure I was about to open my eyes, I was ready. I was done fighting, I needed to wake up.

“WHY THE FUCK IS SHE NOT WAKING!” he yelled. The walls could fall down from the pure anger in him. Zane’s fury was suffocating everything. It was making me angry as well. Why couldn’t I wake up?

“Mr. Rivera, please listen to us. I’ve explained to you many times, along with countless other doctors. Every doctor we’ve brought in here has said the same thing over and over.”

Zane growled like an animal, and I so desperately wanted to pull him to me. To calm him down, to tell him again I’m right here.

“Do something to wake her up. She’s breathing on her own! She’s basically healed, why won’t she wake THE FUCK UP!”

“Zane,” Mila's sweet voice called out.

“Mr. Rivera, her scans are clear, but the damage that has been done to her over the years, along with the fact that Miss Gr—”

“Mrs. Rivera. She’s mine, her last name is Rivera. Not fucking Gray,” Zane barked out.

“The brain is special, no one’s brain is the same. She is healed for the most part, but her brain needs time to heal.”

“YOU SAID HER BRAIN IS HEALED!” Something crashed, along with loud footsteps barging into the room. “Get the fuck out!” Zane screamed.

I heard the sound of the door opening and closing, and for several minutes I thought I was left alone. I was ready for the darkness to take me once again until I heard his boots pad across the floor. His large hand covered my own again, and his hot breath covering my ears.

Home.

“I’m losing it, Kitten. I’m utterly losing it. I need you to come home. I want you to be my wife. You want kids, I’ll give them to you. You want to see the world, let me take you. Anything, just fuck… come back, Kitten.” His tears were hot against my neck again.

Home.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The same heart monitor was annoying me. The bright sunlight shined into my room, blinding me. My eyes followed the light from the blinds to a long arrangement of flowers, with a teddy bear laying in the chair in the corner.

My eyes.

They were open.

I almost laughed until I felt the pain in my stomach. My hands traveled up until they reached the top of my blanket, pulling it down with too much energy. I yanked my gown up to find more scars, fresh ones. But overall healed, stitches to be removed. Fixing my gown, I covered myself.

The hospital room was large, covered in an uneasy white that I hated. I’ve always hated hospitals. My bed sits in the middle, with four chairs surrounding my bed. The one to my left is well worn, like the person who’d sat there hadn’t moved.

The sound of the door opening and Zane walking in made my heart flutter. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him. He was different, bigger somehow. His muscles had always strained against his shirts, but now his muscles had muscles on them. He hadn’t realized I was awake, his eyes staying focused on the ground, as he tightened his grip on the cup. His eyes had dark purple bags under them, and I wanted to scream that I was awake. But I didn’t.

I didn’t want to close my eyes, but I felt very tired. I was scared if I closed my eyes they wouldn’t open again. I barely kept them open as he walked to the chair and sat down, grabbing my hand and closing his eyes. I couldn’t fight it anymore, and I let myself sleep.

***

When I woke up sometime later, he was still holding my hand. But there was something else in the room as well. My eyes blinked a few times trying to get used to the lighting. This time the sun was beginning to set.

“Oh my god.” A gasp left someone on my right. Looking over, Mila sat there. “You’re awake,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face the moment our eyes connected. Looking her over, Mila looked the same, but her stomach was now much larger.

I tried telling her to shush, I didn’t want to wake him up just yet. Thankfully she understood, and standing up she squeezed my other hand. Not saying anything she walked out the door. Turning my head, I looked over at Zane, whose head was still fallen back, in a very uncomfortable position.

His beard was longer and fuller. His hair was even a little longer. It made me want to drag my fingers through it. But the weight of trying to pick my hand up was exhausting. So instead I settled on just staring at him, enjoying the freedom to admire him.

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